


6th December

by WritersKitten



Series: Hetalian Christmas Calendar [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Confusion, Expensive Clothes, Frog - Freeform, Gen, Shopping, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritersKitten/pseuds/WritersKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s one of those days.<br/>Canada recognizes the feeling France is feeling too well. France seems down and silent, and avoids making eye contact with anyone. The others have not realized it yet, and France tries to hide it with fake smiles, but Canada sees it. It is one of those feelings when you just feel like a disappointment to everyone around you. France needs a real cheering up, but how will Canada do that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	6th December

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Anniss here on AO3 for writing the promt.
> 
> Hetalia (c) Himaruya HIdekaz

“France?”

Canada sat down beside the Frenchman. For once, had had not dressed in his usual slightly unusual clothes, and looked like a regular man.

“Why, hello, Canada”, France replied, giving off yet another of those stupid fake smiles. “I did not expect to see you here.”

Canada laughed softly. “I could say the same to you.”

They were sitting in a rather typical maze of a shopping centre. Before them was a bookstore, and behind them was an escalator that led up to the next floor. Just a little further down, was a restaurant at which Canada knew America and England were sitting and making plans.

“So, what are you doing here?” France questioned.

“I noticed you were sitting here all alone, so I thought you would like some company.”

France laughed. “I often look alone, don’t I?”

“No”, Canada stated firmly.

“Oh?”

Canada leant forth a little, supporting his weight on his arms in the process, pretending to try to read the titles of some of the best-selling books. “Yeah. Usually, you look alone in a way that says you enjoy it, but you don’t mind company either. It’s some kind of... cheery alone.”

“How can one be ‘cheery alone’?” France laughed.

“You pull it off rather well – usually”, Canada replied, before continuing. “But the past few days it’s been just _sad_ to watch you, like you try to hide in the crowd and don’t attract attention.”

France laughed a fake laughter. It made him sound so sad, Canada felt like he was being stabbed to the heart. 

“I’ve been pretty much excluded and forgotten by everyone ever since I was little, so one would expect me to recognize when someone else feels similar.”

France’s face fell and a slightly uncomfortable silence settled.

“Want to join me?” Canada finally asked.

“Where?”

Canada smiled and got up, grabbing the elder’s arm. “Just come on. You’ll enjoy it!”

Short of five minutes later, they stood outside the best (and most expensive) fashion shop in the area. It was a tiny building with only one floor, but everything inside seemed to be shining and screaming that only rich people could afford clothes there.

“I did not know you liked looking on clothes?”

Canada laughed awkwardly. “Once in a while I find it nice to have a look around, so I thought you would maybe like to join me!”

The two men did not waste anymore time, and entered the shop. There were shelves in which clothes lay neatly folded, and there was plenty of space between the shelves. France practically bounced back and forth between them, and some of his usual spark seemed to be returning.

It took them one hour. When they finally finished, France had found a really nice coat, a shirt and a new pair of pants. Said nation sighed, admiring the clothes.

“I don’t have money here to buy all of this.”

Canada patted his shoulder. “You can just buy the one you like the most! Or just leave it all.”

With a wistful smile, France thanked the keeper of the shop and left all of the clothes there.

As the two of them exited the shop, Canada noticed England and America at the corner, somehow managing to look like regular teenagers. He gave them a thumb up as he guided France in the opposite direction.

“What do you want to do now?” France asked.

“We’re going there”, Canada replied, pointing out a tiny shoe shop.

They spent another hour in there. When they left, France was carrying a bag in which he had a pair of fashionable shoes that would have gone excellent with the clothes he had tried in the previous shop.

Canada guided him down the street, towards a taxi standing there. “Don’t ask”, Canada informed. “You’ll see soon enough.”

At precisely 5 PM, they stepped out of the taxi. They stood in a residential area. Flats lay in neat lines on all sides, but the one they stood before was the one of interest. It was a nice, white house with a surprisingly well-kept garden outside. Curtains hang in the windows, and everything seemed really peaceful. 

“Who lives here?” France questioned, trying to find a sign that would give him the information.

“You’ve never been here?” Canada asked in return.

France shook his head.

“America.”

“What-”

“Come along!” Canada swept up to the front door and knocked once, not bothering to wait for America to open. He opened and entered. The hall was small, and it appeared as though someone had tried to clean it, but then given up. Some shoes stood by the door, some jackets hang on hooks along the wall. One jacket had fallen down and was laying on top of the shoes. 

“Canada! And the frog. How nice to see you!” England greeted as he appeared in the hall.

“You arrived just in time for dinner!” America called from the kitchen.

France seemed rather bewildered as he was pulled into the house.

Canada smiled. “Don’t ask.”

After they had dined, they moved to the living room. Canada noticed it for once did not look as though a bomb had exploded there – or at least not a large bomb. Some DVDs and games lay around the TV, as did two joysticks. A pillow had fallen off the couch, and the edge of the carpet was folded.

“Could anyone tell me what this is all about?” France demanded as they sat in the couch, him in the middle and Canada and England on each side, with America hanging over the back.

“Sure.” Canada brought forth a large box that was wrapped in paper. It had a small note on it, saying, _Don’t loose your spark, froggy._ He handed it to France. “Since you’ve been acting down lately, we thought we should prepare a surprise for you, just to make sure you remember you are appreciated.”

France opened the box, and then stopped to stare at the content. It was the coat, shirt and pants he had tried in the fashion shop, but put aside. There was also a hat that somehow matched it, with gloves and a very nice cashmere scarf.

He put it at the floor so he could properly hug Canada and England at the same time. America joined in by wrapping his arms around all of them.

“Thank you, _mes amis_ ”, France whispered. “It really means a lot to me.”

“Don’t get too sentimental, frog”, England warned. “I’m not going to wipe your face.”

France began laughing, and soon all of them did as well. 


End file.
